


Yours in Eternity

by bchu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Crime Drama, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omega Phichit Chulanont, Past Rape/Non-con, Police officer Otabek, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Serial Killers, mention of miscarriage, mention of self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bchu/pseuds/bchu
Summary: Seven months after his abduction, Victor's neighbor, Phichit Chulanont, is recovered from a serial killer known as Storge. To help him recover, Victor enlists the help of a past victim named Katsuki Yuuri, and finds himself falling in love with the beautiful, haunted omega who is still filled with terrible and unimaginable secrets. Title changed from "Roses in Autumn."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a dark, omegaverse Victuuri that deals heavily with noncon, kidnapping, and crime. I hope you enjoy it, as I intend it to be a large project, and hope you're having a great day.

Victor is slicing vegetables for dinner when he hears it on the evening news: "Early this afternoon, twenty-year-old kidnap victim Phichit Chulanont was found alive near Tierra Park."

His knife slips. A bead of blood swells on the pad of his trembling finger, and he jams it into his mouth, not really feeling it. The anchor's voice seems suddenly loud, hyper-real.

"Chulanont, then nineteen, was abducted last spring. His case has been high profile owing to his eminence as a representative of the Figure and Speed Skating Association of Thailand. Since his disappearance, officials have found evidence that implicates a suspected serial kidnapper known as Storge who has been active in History County for the past eleven years. Chulanont has neither confirmed nor denied police's allegations. He is currently being treated for dehydration and minor injuries, and is expected to make a full recovery."

Victor mutes the television, turns off the stove, and stands at the counter for a long moment, breath escaping him in short, shaky bursts. _Phichit Chulanont_. His next door neighbor, a gorgeous omega and close friend who'd gone missing without a trace nearly eight months ago. He'd given Victor a cake that same morning. _Brown sugar with pumpkin spice frosting_ , Phichit'd said proudly, still redolent with the scents of melted butter and fresh baking. It was the last time they'd spoken. Phichit never returned home from class that night, and the cake remained uneaten on Victor's counter well into the investigation, staling in the spring air.

Since then, life has been a storm of accusation and interrogation that has slowed in the past few months as the case grew cold. Victor hasn't spoken to police in several weeks. The last time Officer Altin had visited, he had warned Victor not to expect Phichit back unharmed. "If this is our guy," Altin said quietly, "only one other victim has managed to escape."

The terror for his friend still curls daily in Victor's stomach. He lights a candle before bed every evening, praying for Phichit's safe return. Now that he's back, Victor is nearly paralyzed with relief.

When he finally gets his breathing under control, he reaches for his cell phone.

Altin picks up halfway through the sixth ring, sounding curt and distracted: "Altin."

"Hi," says Victor numbly. "It's me."

"Mr. Nikiforov! Excuse me—let me get someplace quieter—"

On the other end of the line, Victor hears unmistakable hospital sounds: the hustle and bustle of nurses conferring in gentle tones, clattering carts, heart monitors and medical-sounding pages over the PA system. There's a click of a door shutting, and the noise dampens, as if submerged underwater. Altin speaks again, low voice echoing.

"Mr. Nikiforov, hello. You've seen the news."

"Yes," says Victor. He's smiling for some reason, strange and unsteady. The questions begin pouring out of him unbidden: "How is he? May I speak to him? What has he said; did that bastard hurt him, how did he get away from—"

"We're still trying to figure all of that out," says Altin.

"Is he okay?"

"He's—lucid. Tired, but seemingly in good spirits."

"That's Phichit for you," Victor says. He laughs, hears the hysteria in it. "Shit. I thought for sure he—thank God. _Phichit_. I don't suppose I could talk to him?"

He doesn't expect an affirmative, but he should've known not to underestimate Officer Altin, whose efficiency, courtesy, and quiet compassion has never failed Victor once during the investigation. "Make it quick, and don't tell Yakov," he murmurs, and there's a shuffle as he passes the phone.

Victor waits, mouth dry. The silence that follows is cautious, loaded, and he finds himself holding his breath as he presses the receiver closer to his ear. "Phichit?" he ventures at last, stomach aching.

Buzz of static. "Victor?" says a high, familiar voice, cracking a little on the second syllable.

"Phichit!"

Victor's legs give out on him. He slips to the kitchen tile, leaning heavily against the refrigerator for support as relief courses through him in full, warm shockwaves.

"Darling. Dear heart. How _are_ you?"

"I'm great," says Phichit, snuffling on a happy sob. "I'm here!"

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine, just sleepy! I've got an IV in and everything; it's very General Hospital. Where are my flowers, Victor? I want two dozen long-stemmed roses in a crystal vase."

"I'll get you six dozen and an army of teddy bears," Victor promises. Tears are welling up in his eyes. He laughs wetly. "I have so many questions for you, Peach, and can't find the words for any of them."

"Right back at you," says Phichit. "What's this new phone they've got out now? It's got a camera with face detection and eight megapixels? I'd like one of those too, please! It's apparently been seven months since my last selfie. He—he destroyed my old phone. That's okay, most of the pictures were backed up on Instagram, but—but he tossed it out the window, I guess? They found it all busted and stuff in Hudson Falls? I—hope I can get the c-case replaced. I got it on vacation. I—I j-just—I know it's s-s-silly, b-but—"

Victor squeezes his eyes shut. His heart breaks as Phichit's wobbly, confused voice trails off, and he hears Altin say a few reassuring words before he gently reclaims his phone.

"Mr. Nikiforov, he needs to rest now. I'll be in touch."

"Of course," Victor says, choked. He clears his throat. "Wish him goodnight for me."

"I will."

Altin hangs up. Victor sits on the floor for a long time, hands in his hair, every nerve of him throbbing with misery.

He has never heard Phichit sound like that before. Nothing could possibly compare to what has happened to him in the last seven months, what has been done to him—Victor can't even think about that yet. The Phichit he knew back then was incandescent in his beauty, confident and indomitable and generous, and he still has an obvious measure of that spark in him. A small, unconquerable flame that badly needs fanning. But what can Victor do for him? Where can he even begin?

Victor's lips firm, and he stands up.

The first thing he does is go online and order Phichit a brand new phone with every camera feature available. A hamster-adorned case. Matching charms. Then he texts Officer Altin for Phichit's room number, sends eight dozen yellow roses his way, and hunts down the spare key to Phichit's apartment to let himself in.

It's late at night, but he vacuums. He mops, dusts, changes the bed sheets, scrubs the bathroom. He's been peppering the coffee table with presents ever since Phichit's disappearance—books he thinks Phichit would like, pretty perfumes, bath bombs; keeping the hope alive—and he rearranges the gifts neatly so he'll see them as soon as he walks in. Finally, he transports armloads of ingredients from his own kitchen and sets to work cooking meal after meal to fill Phichit's empty refrigerator. He bakes brownies, mixes salads, crafts casseroles and stews and dishes that Phichit enjoyed before his disappearance. He's not going to go hungry, that's for sure. He's never going to want for anything else in his life, if Victor has anything to say about it.

Their relationship is familial and inimitable. Victor has adored Phichit since he moved in, his platonic, instinctual affection surpassing that of merely a protective alpha's for a young, unclaimed omega. Phichit is a darling, and Victor is still furious with himself for not being able to protect him. He has long since given up on the idea of having a mate of his own, and can't help but feel that he failed Phichit in a way for which he can never apologize. If he himself is not going to marry, he could've at least dedicated himself more fully to Phichit's safety.

But that kind of thinking doesn't help anyone.

When the fridge is finally full, it's almost four in the morning, and Victor leans back, satisfied. The apartment smells lovely and lived-in. He'll go grocery shopping as soon as the store opens, and then he'll visit Phichit at the hospital and kiss the hell out of his rosy little cheeks. It's not going to be easy, but Victor is going to do what he can. He's going to be there every step of the way, and he's going to make Phichit's life ready to live again.

*

Phichit gets discharged before Victor can stop by. He's loading his trunk full of groceries when he receives the call, and Altin's ringtone—a driving, jumpy Beethoven piece—startles him into fumbling the carton of eggs. One of them rolls free, but doesn't break. He breathes a sigh of relief, replacing it gently as he answers his phone. "Hello?"

"Hi!" says Phichit cheerily. "I'm on my way back to the apartment. Can you peek in there real quick to make sure there are no spider nests or anything? I hate spiders!"

Victor laughs. "No spiders; I checked last night. But I'm not home at the moment."

"Where are you?"

"Yes Foods. Any requests?"

"Chocolate?"

"Already got plenty." Victor closes his trunk and hesitates there for a moment, fingers playing idly against the handle of the cart. "Phichit, isn't it quite soon for you to be leaving the hospital? You were just—" released, rescued, found; none of these are right, "—admitted yesterday. Surely the police need you to—"

"They know where to find me." Phichit's voice is bright, razor-sharp. "I'm perfectly healthy, Victor. I just want to go home."

"Yes. Of course." Victor tries to smile, hopes Phichit can hear his effort. "I'll meet you back there in a bit. Travel safely, sweetheart."

As he drives back to his apartment, he marvels at Phichit's courage. To have lived through what he has—Victor doesn't know if he could've done it. The circumstances of Phichit's kidnapping are still largely unknown to him, but there are only so many reasons for abducting a young, attractive omega, and Victor hopes against hope that Phichit wasn't—hurt. That that bastard hadn't gotten his hands on him. If he's who the police think he is, his MO is to kidnap and assault the omegas, holding them captive for many months before tiring of them and assumedly killing them. No bodies have ever been recovered, except—

The only victim who'd escaped was protected from the public by the police during the investigation that followed. His story now is private, inviolate. Victor wonders if that anonymous young man ever managed to recapture something like a normal life. He prays he has. These innocent boys, their lives so brutally upended—it's not fucking right.

Victor gets home, unpacks. He's just bringing the last armload of groceries into Phichit's apartment when he hears the elevator ping, and he steps back into the hallway, heart pounding in his chest. The doors seem to take forever to slide open. Then—

He barely registers Officer Altin standing there: he has eyes only for Phichit Chulanont. A beautiful boy, dark and bright-faced and cheery, luminous with health. The young man standing before him has nervous, altered posture, his eyes ringed with dark circles, but the smile is the same. It's _him_.

"Phichit!" Victor cries.

"Victor!" Phichit holds out his arms, and Victor rushes to scoop him up, squeezing protectively. Phichit laughs, and the familiar sound warms Victor to his core. "I never thought I'd see you again," Phichit says, with simple, unsentimental honesty.

"Nor I you." Victor pulls back to study him, grinning—and feels for the first time the roadblock of something full and soft between them, separating their abdomens. He frowns, glances down.

Phichit is heavily pregnant. 

"Oh, no," Victor whispers. "Phichit—oh, Phichit, honey—"

"It's okay," says Phichit, but his voice is wobbling now. He holds onto the bravest smile Victor has ever seen. "I'm seven months along, due in December. They say the baby is very healthy. I—I'd like you to be the godfather. It's a boy."

"Phichit," Victor says. He sweeps back Phichit's bangs and lays a kiss on his forehead, his lips shaking. "Yes, of course. I'd be honored."

They hold each other for a long time. Officer Altin, one hand resting gently at the small of Phichit's back, stands by and lets them hug, exuding soft, comforting pheromones, unexpectedly warm and rich. Victor inhales. Phichit's scent evidences an unmistakable pregnancy. His normally honey-clear notes are lush with hormones, milky and heavy and complicated. Victor instinctually opens the apartment door for him and begins gingerly helping him inside so he can sit down. Officer Altin remains in the corridor, and gestures Victor close to confer with him in low tones.

"It was our guy," he says quietly. "Storge. The bastard we've been looking for."

"Shit," Victor breathes. He watches Phichit silently navigating his old living room, reacquainting himself with the furniture, his tables and lamps and couches. No doubt he's going to begin nesting soon. Victor feels a stab of panic. They aren't mated. He can't help with that, and Phichit has no other omega friends in state.

As if sensing his alarm, Altin seizes his upper arm and gives him a bracing shake. His eyes are dark and steady.

"Katsuki Yuuri contacted us last night."

Victor looks up at him, struggling to place the name. It is deeply familiar to him. "Yuuri—?"

"Storge's third victim. The one who escaped. He wants you or Phichit to call him if there's anything you need, anything at all."

Altin presses a slip of paper into Victor's hand. Victor's throat closes up. He has learned about Yuuri during the course of the investigation: kidnapped at nineteen, like Phichit was. Omega, Asian. No family to speak of. He doesn’t know why Yuuri was spared, or why he would reach out to the police for Phichit's sake. Surely he just wants to move past what happened to him. Could someone really be so compassionate, so beautifully selfless?

"I will not be calling him," Victor manages. "I wouldn't dream of disturbing him with this."

"He was adamant."

"I'll keep it in mind. Thank you."

Altin turns to leave, then hesitates, glancing back at Victor. "You know you can call me anytime as well. I can't imagine what either you or Mr. Chulanont will go through during the course of his recovery, but I intend to be there. You're not in this alone."

On impulse, Victor pulls Altin into a hug. Altin stiffens in surprise before relaxing, his broad, gentle hands resting on Victor's back. "Thank you," Victor whispers. "For everything."

"Take care of Phichit, Victor. And yourself."

He leaves. The elevator pings softly. Victor takes a long moment to catch his breath, to get himself to stop shaking, then pastes on a smile and reenters Phichit's apartment.

Phichit is already putting away the groceries, bending and stooping and reaching. Victor swears and crosses the kitchen quickly to relieve him of the bags, but before he can admonish him, Phichit cups a hand to his cheek and says, "You darling! You filled my fridge! If there's one thing I've missed more than hot baths, it's Victor Nikiforov's home cooking."

He wasn't permitted hot baths. Victor narrowly manages to keep his lip from curling with fury, disgust. Instead, he kisses Phichit's forehead again. "I've missed you terribly," he says quietly.

"I've missed you too."

They stand in silence, just regarding each other. Phichit slowly moves to cradle his pregnant belly, and Victor looks down, sees that his fingers are shaking. He places his palms atop Phichit's hands and holds them there until he steadies. Fearful, surrendering pheromones begin to permeate the air. Phichit would be backed into a corner if it weren't for Victor, and Victor's eyes sting with tears as he pulls the omega back into his arms and tries to exude confidence, safety.

"You're going to get through this," Victor promises him.

"Yes," says Phichit. "Yes, I am." He smiles then, so sharp it cuts. Then he reaches toward the refrigerator. "Let's start with that chocolate cake."

*

Evening falls. Phichit goes to bed early, and Victor sets to work installing new locks on Phichit's door, a bolt and two chains that'll go nicely with the security system he'll purchase tomorrow. Altin texted him to inform him that the police will be monitoring Phichit's house twenty-four-seven until further notice, against the possibility that Storge returns for him. The chances are minute, Altin says, for reasons that he has not disclosed, but they are not taking any chances.

Victor is just tightening the last screw when he hears Phichit begin to cry.

"No—get off of me—please—"

He drops his tools and sprints to the bedroom, socked feet sliding on his hardwood, and fumbles on the lights. Phichit is twisted up in his blankets, one of Victor's old shirts pulling up to reveal the smooth curve of his stomach.

"Aaah!" Phichit cries, thrashing. "Aah, please— _please_ , not my baby—!"

"Phichit," Victor tries. "Phichit, darling, you're here. You're safe—"

Phichit draws in a wet, gasping breath and sits bolt upright, hands clawing the air. He clocks Victor a good one on the left cheekbone before Victor catches his wrists and brings them to his chest, keeping his grip loose, so Phichit can break it if he needs to. Phichit pants, tears slipping down his face. He wrenches free and cradles his stomach protectively, as if guarding it against blows. When he sees Victor, his eyes slowly focus. His arms go lax. Then he begins to cry in earnest; great, gulping wails that wrack his entire body.

"Victor, I told him," Phichit sobs. "I told him not to come inside—I knew he'd use this against me, and he _did_ , he told me he'd poison me—he told me he'd rip it out of me in my sleep—"

"Sweetheart," Victor says. He's crying too, gathering Phichit in his arms.

"Don't let him hurt my baby," Phichit begs. "Please, Victor! Don't let him hurt my baby!"

"I've got you. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise!"

He cries for hours. Fucking hours, and Victor is helpless to do anything but hold him as the sobs pour out of him until he's retching, arms crossed over his belly. Terrible secrets begin to spill from him. Tales of rape, of beatings, of starvation, of psychological torture. Victor can't repeat any of it. It's unimaginable. Phichit cries and cries and scratches at his own arms until the skin begins to break. Victor seizes his wrists again and kisses the soft veins there until he finally begins to fall back into a restless sleep. And for the first time, he realizes the extent of this trauma: Phichit needs _help _.__

___Victor_ needs help, too._ _

__*_ _

__Katsuki Yuuri's house is small, neat. Pale blue siding with white trim, clean-looking in its coolness, the leaves in the front lawn swept neatly into two orange trash bags with jack-o'-lantern faces on them. Rose hedges. Not quite in season, but well-kempt, showing tiny buds of red here and there, like tiny flames._ _

__Victor stands on the walkway between the towering oak trees, hesitating. The air is crisp. Numinous with possibility. It takes him several long minutes before he works up the nerve to go to the front door and press the bell with the tip of one gloved finger._ _

__There's a scuttling of claws against wood flooring as a dog begins to bark inside. Victor blinks. For some reason, he didn't imagine Katsuki would be adjusted enough to have a pet, even though it's been four years since he escaped from Storge. The thought makes Victor's mind churn with hope. Phichit could get a pet. Something small, like a gerbil or hamster—something that requires him to get out of bed each morning, that needs his attention—_ _

__"Vicchan, down," someone scolds, and then the door opens._ _

__Victor has to bite back a gasp: this man is _beautiful_. He's got a soft smile and long, straight eyelashes, prettily-colored cheeks, an oversized cream-colored sweater and slim blue jeans with patches at the knees. An omega. A sensual, innocently mature scent, wood-rich and buttery and sweet, like fresh fruit. But that's not what gives Victor pause. As he stares, he realizes slowly that the man's hand is tender in the grasp of a small, pale-haired boy who giggles and hides behind his legs when he sees Victor staring. A son. A boy, no more than four or five, his eyes huge and soulful and just like his father's._ _

__"You must be Victor," says the man in a kind, sweet voice. "Hello. I'm Katsuki Yuuri, and this is my son, Kenjirou."_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've added a tag for mentions of miscarriage; please heed that warning if it is a sensitive topic for you. It does not go into detail.
> 
> And thank you so, so much. I'm incredibly grateful for all the kind words I've received so far. Please don't be afraid to drop me a line with your feedback, as there are still some parts of this story that are open to change with readers' input. Hope you're having a great evening!

Eleven minutes into their conversation, Victor decides that Katsuki Yuuri is the most graceful person he has ever met.

He manages his son, his dog, two mugs of tea, and a plate of homemade cookies with practiced ease. He speaks gently into the awkward silences, makes Victor sit on the comfiest armchair. When the conversation invariably moves past pleasantries into darker territory, he scoops Kenjirou out of his lap and lightly swats his butt. "Go play in your room with Vicchan, baby," he says.

"I'm not a baby," says Kenjirou in a tiny, pouty voice.

"You're _my_ baby. Go on now. Take your sippie cup."

Kenjirou picks up his cup, eyes Victor with shy fondness, then proceeds to his room down the hall. Victor can see from this angle that it's gorgeously furnished and painted a buttery gold. Kenjirou begins to sing in loud, cheerful Japanese as he pulls toys from the shelves, the dog—a medium-sized, well-behaved poodle—fluttering at his feet. Yuuri watches him play, adoration written clearly across his face.

"That boy is my life," he says.

"He's a lovely child."

"Do you have any of your own, Mr. Nikiforov?"

"Victor, please. No. No children."

Yuuri takes a long, elegant sip of his tea, fingers delicate on the rim of his cup. He makes Victor ready for the segue by placing one hand on his knee, warm and bracing. "Your mate Phichit came back pregnant," he says softly.

The timing makes it difficult to correct him, so Victor tries instead to smile. "That's correct."

"How far along is he?"

"Seven months. It's a boy."

"Yes, he says his family is predisposed toward them," says Yuuri—and there's no mistaking who 'he' is, but the mere reference makes Victor's stomach coil with fury and sickness. Yuuri absently touches his own abdomen, and it recurs to Victor—occurs to him for the first time with actual horror and understanding—that Yuuri had had Kenjirou by rape, with the same man as Phichit.

That sick fucking bastard. Kidnapping and breeding young omegas who'd had their whole lives ahead of them, filling them with unwilling children—Victor finds it beautiful and telling that Phichit and Yuuri have had the courage to love their babies. Surely Victor himself would've succumbed to self-hated if he were forced into the same position. But he wouldn't be, would he? Storge favors Asian omegas who are isolated from their families, wide-eyed beauties with sweet smiles and peaceable routines from which he can steal them. Yuuri was abducted from his own doorstep, casual as a peach from a grocery store. He had only been nineteen.

"I think you're so brave," Victor blurts. He blushes when his brain catches up to his mouth, but pushes forward, cheeks hot. "Pardon me, but surviving what you did—raising Kenjirou with such pure, uncomplicated love—"

"Love is easy," says Yuuri. "The hard part is the hatred."

"Do you have much of that inside you? Hatred?"

Yuuri is quiet for a moment. "Yes," he says at last, "but it's mixed in with a lot of other things, too. Anger, of course. Loneliness. Pity, apathy. It depends on the day. Your lover Phichit is going to have a difficult time ahead of him, but I'm sure you can help him through this."

"Oh, Phichit isn't my lover," says Victor. "He's my next door neighbor."

Now it's Yuuri's turn to redden. "Oh, I'm sorry. I can smell him on you; I just assumed—"

"I wish I _were_ Phichit's lover. It'd make the rest of this easier to manage logistically. Yuuri, how did you do it? So young, no mate—"

"I was provided with staff. Two omega nurses to help me nest, a pregnancy coach, and an alpha who served as a sort of bodyguard for me."

"A bodyguard? He didn't help in the birthing process?"

"No. He couldn't; his scent wouldn't allow for it." With a forced smile, Yuuri reaches up and tugs at the collar of his sweater, baring an old mark, scarred white and pink now from having been chemically erased at some point. "I was already bonded."

Victor can't stop himself from hissing in outrage. It was the most selfish and damaging thing you could do to an expecting omega—bond and then leave them wanting, needing your pheromonal signatures. One could make do with a professional alpha who'd had training in birth services, but sex is not a part of that service, and the ache and fearfulness of being a single expecting parent never really goes away. Your body knows what it needs. Thank god he hadn't bonded Phichit. Then: _why_ hadn't he bonded Phichit?

"Anyway, I'd like to help your friend get through this," says Yuuri into the silence.

Victor blinks at him, thrown by the simplicity of the offer, his generosity. "Really?"

"Yes. Nesting, bathing, birthing—he'll need help preparing for the baby, and I think I may be the only one who knows what he's dealing with."

"That's a safe statement," says Victor, laughing weakly. "Yuuri—thank you tremendously."

"I'm happy to help. In some small way, it feels like giving back."

"Giving back for what?"

Yuuri smiles. It's the saddest smile Victor has ever seen. "For the baby I lost."

No. Oh, _no _. "Yuuri," Victor whispers. He reaches out and clasps Yuuri's hand in his, because there's nothing he can say to the despair in his expression. He can see now that this is not the time to pry, and feels himself emitting the softest of pheromones—obvious but unassuming, pouring them full of comfort, but no pity. Yuuri Katsuki clearly has no need for it.__

__And Victor knows he made the right choice when Yuuri responds in kind, his scent rich with gratitude, and they both blink at the chemistry that follows: Victor's notes of rained-upon wood and full bloomed roses, Yuuri's buds, his honey. They are hormonally compatible in a way that Victor has never experienced before, what with his complex sweetness, rare for an alpha. Yuuri slowly flips his hand so he can entwine his fingers with Victor's. There is no point in ignoring it._ _

__"Wow," Yuuri says. "I wish you'd been in my pool of alpha surrogates."_ _

__"And I wish I'd been there to help you," Victor returns._ _

__Yuuri's lashes flutter as he lowers his eyes. "You're sweet." Then, after a soft moment, he stands gracefully, replacing his tea mug on the coaster and raising his voice. "Kenjirou-kun! Would you like a snack before naptime?"_ _

__Patter of little feet down the hallway. Then Kenjirou is flinging himself at his father, squealing. "Aminal crackers, aminal crackers!"_ _

__"Animal."_ _

__"Aminal!"_ _

__"Okay, 'aminal' crackers," Yuuri agrees, laughing. He glances at Victor. "I'm sorry, but I've got to put him down soon or he'll crash at six and be up by three in the morning. Would you like me to see you out?"_ _

__"Not necessary. I can find my own way." Victor stands too, stroking the wrinkles from his slacks. He pauses, watching Yuuri cross the kitchen with Kenijrou on his hip and open the snack pantry. He looks so efficient, so effortlessly _good_ at being a parent that it stirs inside Victor something primal and hungry, something longing for what he doesn't have. Yuuri senses his gaze and turns, smiling._ _

__"I'll stop by Phichit's apartment around eleven," he says._ _

__"Thank you," says Victor, shaking himself a little. "Yuuri, it's been a pleasure meeting you."_ _

__"Likewise." Yuuri waves with an oversimplified open-and-close hand gesture, bouncing Kenjirou and smiling at him. "Can you wave bye-bye, Kenjirou?"_ _

__Kenjirou beams and buries his face in his the crook of his father's neck, whining._ _

__"Sorry, he gets shy sometimes," says Yuuri._ _

_That makes two of us_ , thinks Victor as he smiles and nods and wordlessly starts backing out of the little blue house. He almost trips over one of the ottomans, but thankfully Yuuri has turned the other way to shake crackers onto a plastic plate. Victor sees himself out and closes the door. He stands on the front patio for a long time, just trying to breathe. 

__Yuuri. Such a strong, attractive, unknowable man. The horrors he has survived. The baby he has lost. Victor has never been more intrigued by someone in his life, yet his attention feels voyeuristic somehow, unwelcomed. Surely Yuuri has had enough of being scrutinized by alphas with ill intentions. Victor stares at the pumpkin trash bags on the lawn and swears to himself now that he will never treat Yuuri with anything but his utmost respect; will be more than a gentleman around him. He'll be a goddamn saint. Yuuri already wants to help Phichit out of the kindness of his heart, and Victor, in turn, wants badly to help Katsuki Yuuri._ _

__He's just not so sure that he needs it._ _

__*_ _

__Watching Yuuri and Phichit meet the following morning is something beautiful and predestined, like a puzzle piece snapping into place. Not a hitch of discomfort in it. "Oh, you poor dear," Yuuri whispers, laying soothing hands on Phichit's pregnant belly, then he leans in to peck him softly on each cheek. "I'm Katsuki Yuuri," he says. "Phichit, I would love to help you through this difficult time, if you think I can be of service."_ _

__"Thank you," says Phichit, beginning to weep. He looks so small, his stomach so huge. He gestures helplessly. "I—I need—well, I don't know what I need, but you're an amazing start." He draws in a breath to say something else, then pauses, startled. "That smell. Like sweet cream. You've—birthed a child?"_ _

__"Yes," says Yuuri, smiling. "A son, Kenjirou. He's with a sitter now."_ _

__"I can smell that you're a parent! I can smell it!"_ _

__"Yes, you'll be able to tell that with other omegas, now that you have been pregnant."_ _

__"Wow." Tears trickle from Phichit's eyes. He steps back into his apartment, making a 'welcome' gesture. "I'm sorry, please come in! Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"_ _

__"No thank you, Phichit-kun."_ _

__"Victor?"_ _

__"Water, but I'll fetch it. What would you like?"_ _

__"Water, please," says Phichit uncomfortably. Then: "And, um, milk. And pie, if we have any! And hamburgers! Can you make hamburgers, Victor?"_ _

__"I'll make hamburgers," Victor agrees, laughing._ _

__Phichit claps his hands, delighted, and for the first time in several days, he looks like himself again. It's been difficult. Victor has been sleeping over at Phichit's apartment to help chase away the nightmares, make sure he's well fed and clean and taken care of, but his damage runs deep. He dropped a glass and cowered as if afraid he'd be beaten. Cried in front of a mirror once for almost an hour, hands on his belly. Worst of all, there'd been an evening when he'd fallen asleep with his head in Victor's lap, and automatically rolled over to perform fellatio as he'd awakened. Victor has kept his scent carefully safe since then, loving but neutral, so the terrible event will not be repeated._ _

__Phichit's body aches for sex now. Victor can smell it. The unwilling carnal maturity brought on in him by Storge has ripened him for physical contact, and Phichit quakes in wanting for it, made desperate by past daily rapes. They might need to hire someone to fulfill his sexual needs. Victor hopes to god that that's a conversation Yuuri will be willing to have with them at some point, because Victor is completely out of his depth here._ _

At least hiring someone is actually a possibility because Phichit is still unmarked. If that son of a bitch had bonded him, only he would've been able to satiate his omega's bodily desires. Victor has no idea how Yuuri managed to cope without his mate. Chemical removal of a bond during or immediately following pregnancy is extremely dangerous owing to the repeated treatments, the pain of it. Yuuri was brave to make it through the procedure. Yuuri was brave to make it through _everything_. 

__

__

__"I see you've begun nesting," says Yuuri, strolling around the apartment._ _

__"Meaning I've placed two blankets on my couch?" asks Phichit, embarrassed._ _

__"Well, yes." Yuuri laughs. "May I help you?"_ _

__"Please!"_ _

__Victor sets to work making the hamburgers while the two of them confer, drizzling oil in a shallow pan and forming patties from ground beef. He has been thrilled to cook for Phichit for the past few days. It feels, insufficient as it is, like a way that he can help. As he prepares lunch, he listens to the soft murmur of Yuuri's voice, struck again by interest and admiration. "Think of the way the energy is flowing here," he's saying. "It doesn't have to be spiritual, but rooms still have air flow, foot traffic direction. How would you like to be moved?"_ _

__By the time the meal is ready, Yuuri and Phichit have rearranged the living room: the couches are facing inward, the coffee table with its pile of gifts has been navigated to one side, and Yuuri is pushing the armchair into the circle of seating options. Victor hastens to help, his hands brushing against Yuuri's with the motion._ _

__"Don't overexert yourself," he says._ _

__"It slides easy on hardwood," says Yuuri, but he lets Victor take over. He helps Phichit sit down on one of the sofas and begins packing pillows and blankets around him. "How does this feel? Any better?"_ _

__"Much," says Phichit. "Way more secure-feeling."_ _

__"Good. We'll work on your bedroom next."_ _

__"After lunch," says Victor. He returns to the kitchen to retrieve the hamburgers. He has plated them carefully with onions, lettuce, and tomato, with artistic dabs of condiments, because old habits die hard. Homemade French fries line the dish. Good carbs to build up the baby. Phichit applauds happily, and Yuuri thanks him, shy and quiet._ _

__"This is too beautiful to eat," he says. "I didn't know it was possible to make a burger and fries look this appealing."_ _

__"You should see his duck galantine," says Phichit, mouth already full._ _

__"Are you a professional chef?" Yuuri asks Victor._ _

__"I used to be." Victor hesitates, unsure whether or not to elaborate, then beams and lets it go. That's a story for another day. "Enjoy!"_ _

__"I will, thank you!"_ _

__As they eat, Phichit chatters on about baby names and room ideas, and Victor finds himself smiling behind his napkin: leave it to Phichit to find the silver lining. Yuuri is smiling, too, wide and magnificent, opening up with the help of a good meal and Phichit's bubbly excitement. Phichit jokes about naming the baby "Chu," as in "Chu-Chulanont," and Yuuri laughs a lovely, unselfconscious laugh, one hand over his mouth. Victor can't stop staring. Twice he has to play it off as looking out the window behind him when Yuuri turns and catches him._ _

__"I'd love to meet your son," says Phichit presently, when they've finished their lunches._ _

__Yuuri lights up. "I'll bring him by sometime. I think he'd really like you. You're going to be a great parent, Phichit."_ _

__"I hope so. I hope I'm half as good as you are." Phichit chews his lower lip. "How did you become so capable so quickly, Yuuri?"_ _

__"A lot of it is instinct," says Yuuri. "You've felt some of it already—the nesting, gathering food, wanting to create a baby room—and more of it is going to fall in place now that you aren't worried about basic needs such as hygiene, sleep, and meals."_ _

__Phichit is quiet for a few beats. "That makes sense."_ _

__Yuuri reaches out and places his hand atop his. Very gently, he asks, "Was he very cruel to you?"_ _

__"Yes. No. I mean, he just—you know. His temper."_ _

__"Yes, I remember."_ _

__As unobtrusively as he can, Victor stands up to gather their plates and excuse himself, but Phichit catches his sleeve as he passes by. "Victor, please stay," he says, his eyes big and damp and pleading. There's real terror in them. Victor sits down next to him at once, offering silent, steady support as Yuuri and Phichit converse._ _

__"When I became pregnant, he grew kinder," says Phichit, his voice small and choked. "Not in words, but in action. The beatings stopped. He threatened me, threatened my baby, but he never acted upon it beyond a slap in the face."_ _

__"Or a rape?" says Yuuri quietly._ _

__Phichit's eyes flash with tears. "Oh. Or—or that."_ _

__"It becomes normalized, doesn't it? When he's doing it every night—"_ _

__"You just can't fight him every single time. You just—you can't do it. Your heart will break." Phichit looks at Victor again, pleading. "Please don't hate me for my weakness."_ _

__True anger rises in Victor, not toward Phichit—never toward Phichit—but toward the sick fuck who had abused him so regularly that he'd forgotten it even happened, in the full trajectory of the horrors inflicted upon him. Victor kisses Phichit on the temple with shaky lips. "You weren't weak, Phichit. You are brave, so brave. You _survived_."_ _

__"I broke a basement window with a metal teaspoon and flagged down a police car," says Phichit. It's the first time he's spoken of his escape. His shoulders hitch with sobs. "I wasn't brave. Just lucky."_ _

__"You _were_ brave," says Yuuri. "Never doubt that."_ _

__His voice is suddenly steel. Phichit and Victor look up at him, and Victor sees something new in him that has been weathered hard and unyielding, stone-like in its density, its strength. Yuuri speaks with calm dignity, his gaze unwavering:_ _

"After I became pregnant the second time, I never fought him. Not once. I was too frightened. And because of that, he grew to like me. To truly believe we were making love at night. I capitalized on this and said kind things to him, complimented him, let him bathe and hold and kiss me. I seduced him, earned his trust bit by bit through my subservience, until he decided he _wanted_ to let me go. He dosed me one night with a sedative and left me on a bench in History Park. The last thing I remember is falling asleep in his arms. He was singing to me. He always liked to sing to me before bed." 

__Victor doesn't realize he's holding his breath until his lungs start aching. He lets it out slowly, feeling his own eyes prickle with tears. Yuuri's hand is shaking in Phichit's, but he doesn't let go._ _

__"They say that persuasion is better than force, but by whose standards?" says Yuuri, self-deprecation creeping into his voice. He lifts his glasses, scrubs hard at his face. "At least with force, you don't compromise yourself," he says quietly, staring at the carpet. "Force means you never gave up, Phichit. That's more than I can say for myself."_ _

__"No," says Victor, startling himself._ _

__Yuuri and Phichit glance up at him, caught by surprise. "No—?"_ _

"You were brave, too. You compromised _nothing_." Victor is swept away by the passion he feels. He wants to pull Yuuri into his arms, wants to kiss his sweet mouth until it stops trembling. "Yuuri, you did what you had to do to survive, too. There's no right or wrong here. You don't choose love or hate; you just choose to live, and that's one hell of a lot more than most people could've done in your situation." 

__Yuuri blinks up at him, eyes blurred and wet. No tears fall, though, and Victor marvels again at his grace, his strength. "Do you think so?" he asks softly._ _

"Yes," says Phichit firmly. "He's right. Yuuri—you made it. We both did. How we got there doesn't matter. We're _here_." 

__After a few bracing moments, Yuuri smiles radiantly. God, he's so fucking _beautiful_. "We're here," he repeats, sitting up a little straighter._ _

__"Yes, we are."_ _

__Phichit pulls Yuuri close, and the two of them nuzzle cheek to cheek. Fond, loving pheromones fill the air. The scent of two omegas in harmony is fresh and crisp, like autumn air or fresh laundry. Victor has never smelled something quite like it—has never been around Phichit stripped so bare, has never been invited into the confidence of omegas this way. Is this what it's like? The parental instinct, the nesting, the beauty that lies before them, despite everything?_ _

__"And it's a good thing we are here," says Phichit, "because who else is going to eat Victor's fabulous cooking?"_ _

__Yuuri laughs wetly, clears his throat. "You've got a point there."_ _

__Victor stands up, snapping his fingers. "I made orange-cardamom madeleines last night! How about we have some with tea? Yuuri?"_ _

__"Victor, you spoil me," says Yuuri demurely._ _

_Not yet_ , thinks Victor, _but I want to_. 

__They spend the rest of the visit laughing and chatting and going through the heap of gifts Victor had left on Phichit's coffee table. ("You got me a subscription to GQ?" "I got one for myself, too." "And what is a 'Lush Bath Bomb?'" "Oh, Phichit-kun, are you in for a treat.") By the time Yuuri has to go relieve the sitter, they've talked about everything from lavender moisturizers to water birthing techniques, and Phichit is abuzz with excitement over picking colors for the study he's going to convert into a baby's room. They leave him standing there sketching a rough floor plan on an old grocery list while Victor walks Yuuri out._ _

__"I had an unexpectedly wonderful time," says Yuuri, turning to face Victor on the doorstep. "We were in rough territory for a moment there, but you and Phichit were lovely."_ _

__"As were you," says Victor, smiling. "Yuuri, thank you so much for what you're doing for us. I mean—Phichit. What you're doing for Phichit."_ _

__"I'm delighted he wants to be friends. I was worried that I'd be—well, too much of a reminder. Of what happened to him. Though I don't know if it's possible for him to forget."_ _

__Victor nods. He glances over Yuuri's shoulder and sees the unmarked police car there at the opposite curb. Not Officer Altin today, but one of the other detectives from the precinct who nods and waves a little when he sees Victor staring. Victor waves back, low. Yuuri is staring up at him with warm, glowing eyes, and Victor desperately wants to kiss him._ _

__Instead, he strokes his fingers down Yuuri's wrist and takes one of his hands, giving it a gentle squeeze._ _

__"Can I walk you to your car?"_ _

__Yuuri points to the battered Focus just a few steps away. "This is me."_ _

__"Oh." Victor is disappointed. "When will we see you again?"_ _

__"Whenever you want. Just have Phichit give me a call, day or night. I'll be there, though I might have to drag a cranky four-year-old with me sometimes."_ _

__"I'm sure Phichit would like that. He loves children."_ _

__Yuuri nods, smiles. Doesn't make that dark. He pushes up to his tiptoes to give Victor a chaste kiss on the cheek, his glasses bumping against Victor's nose. "Goodnight, Victor," he says, and turns toward his car._ _

__Victor stands at the curb and waves until he's out of sight, then goes back to Phichit's apartment, where Phichit is standing dreamily in the entryway and inhaling Yuuri's fading scent. Victor pauses to relish it, too: that smell, sweet and floral and somehow edible; something so full and nourishing that Victor wishes he could sink his teeth into it and suck delicately. "Victor, Yuuri is _incredible_ ," says Phichit, arms wrapped around himself._ _

__"Yes," says Victor, smiling. "Yes, he is."_ _


End file.
